


Sydney Carton Doesn't Have Shit On Me

by worrylesswritemore



Category: The Book of Mormon - Ambiguous Fandom, The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Connor is a book nerd, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, I feel like reading all those boring books in high school has finally paid off, Kevin is a regular nerd, Literary References & Allusions, M/M, Swearing, The title seems out of there but it makes sense if you read it trust me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 06:38:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10551750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worrylesswritemore/pseuds/worrylesswritemore
Summary: Connor McKinley has Great Expectations, and arrogant, brooding,straightKevin Price is most definitelynothis dashing, heroic love interest.Seriously.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Fun Fact About Me: Before I was the Falsettos trashcan most of you know me as, I was actually a huge Book of Mormon nerd (then I became obsessed with Andrew Rannells and so began my trek into the Falsettos fandom).  
> But anyway, enjoy!

Whenever Connor feels overwhelmed in Uganda—be it because baptisms were lacking that day or one of the elders broke the toaster again right before breakfast time or _one of his wards started an entire new religion behind his back,_ he imagines himself tucked away in the study of his childhood home. He imagines being shuffled between towering bookshelves, his deft fingers methodically stroking the well-worn pages of a good book. Given that any trip to the theater or dance studio was rare and had to be earned through a gripping argument with his father, Connor's only consistent reprieve has always been the modest library in the basement of his house. 

It’s a comfort mechanism, he knows, to hide away in a corner of his mind and daydream of such a place, but sometimes it’s the only thing that gets him through the day. Books give him an outlet of sorts, an escape to an ethereal plane of existence where Connor can _be_ anyone and _do_ anything (and even  _do_ anyone, if you catch his drift). It certainly was a quieter form of defiance in comparison to dance, but it became Connor's chief means of rebellion nevertheless. 

He wishes he had some of his favorites now—Wilde's _The Picture of Dorian Gra_ y or Leroux's _The Phantom of the Opera_ or even Dickens' _Great Expectations_ —but those have taken permanent residence on the bookshelves of his home while Connor has been forced to take refuge in only _one_ book ( _the true book of God,_ he has to remind himself, though he admits that he finds the writing sometimes stilted and overly redundant). After all, he’s no longer _Connor McKinley,_ the reserved yet oddly passionate boy from Nowhere-ville, Minnesota; he’s _Elder_ _McKinley,_ current district leader of this Uganda mission trip. He needs to let go of some of his childish habits and adopt the persona of all-knowing mentor and friend.

But still, as hard as he prays, there are _many_ things about Elder McKinley that he just can't shake, one of which being his passion for literature (and for hunky fictional heroes, but you didn't hear that from him).

:: - ::

He remembers his first meeting with Elder Price going pretty well, all things considering. Sure, he stumbled over his words and shook his hand longer than necessary and might've revealed his little—uh— _condition,_ but Price seemed too wrapped up in his own melancholy to notice these things.

Of course, he'd heard about Elder Price and what a godsend (and he meant literally) he was supposed to be, but for Heavenly Father's sake, no one told him he was going to be so _handsome._

His warm brown eyes blanketed by long eyelashes spoke of tribulation and heartbreak, his lined jaw and firm set of his shoulders were testament of the boy's strong will, his posture and mannerisms demonstrated a tight sense of control and confidence, his pretty pink mouth reminded Connor of temptation and the dark, cold Hell Dreams that left him sweaty and on the verge of sobbing every night. (And yes, Connor knows that description is nothing but purple prose, but this sort of beauty deserved it dammit!).

"No, _I'm_ not having gay thoughts," Elder Price asserts, looking vaguely distressed and uncomfortable. Connor tries to rationalize the sudden dip in his heart at the declaration, but eventually he just decides to turn off all emotions altogether.

:: - ::

After it was all over—the mission president's disastrous visit, the subsequent exile of all Mormons parry to this 'disgrace,' the founding of the new religion of Arnold, Connor excuses himself from the flurry of confusion and excitement to sit quietly on the porch of their quarters. Feeling the tell-tale signs of a verging panic attack, Connor closes his eyes and immerses himself in the illusion of the study, walking along the shelves and thumbing the hard spines of countless of novels.

"Elder McKinley?" Ripping himself from the daydream, Connor nearly falls back on his back only to be held upright by a bemused Elder Price.

"Yes?" Connor sputters, desperately trying to gather his bearings.

Elder Price smiles in a way that mirrors his confused yet amused expression, "Have you been lacking in your sleep, Elder?"

"A little," and _no,_ that's not a _lie_ because it is true that Connor hasn't been sleeping well (though, to be clear, he hasn't been sleeping well ever since—well, _puberty_ ).

Not bothering to ask any sort of permission, Elder Price just plops down beside him. This has always been one of the things that both infuriates and makes Connor envy about Elder Price—the casual way he disregards those around him, as if he just assumes that no one could possibly feel bothered or upset by his actions simply because he's _Kevin Price_.

"Some Elders have decided to go home." Elder Price informs him, strangely avoiding his eye as he ducks forward and allows his bangs to fall in his face. It's instances like this that makes Connor suspect Price knows about his attraction, that somehow he’s figured out that he can manipulate him just by licking his lips or letting his perfect hair fall in a certain way over his perfect face.

Connor waits for Elder Price to continue, but when it becomes evident that he’s waiting for some kind of reaction, he simply responds, "I don't blame them. You can't expect everyone to drop everything and follow you."

"Not _me,"_  Elder Price reminds him, and his tone of disgruntlement mixed with the vague hint of jealousy makes Connor smile a little, "It isn't the Book of Kevin." _Not through any choice of your own,_ Connor thinks of countering, but then he remembers the way Price finally stepped back and supported Arnold back there. He's maturing, Connor realizes, and it would be cruel to throw his past mistakes in his face like that.

"The Book of Arnold, huh?" Connor cracks a smile, "It certainly has some modern appeal to it." Elder Price nods along, though he didn't seem to be actually listening. He looks like he wants to say something else, but he's mystified on how to broach the subject. As patient as always, Connor lets him silently agonize and gather his thoughts.

Finally, Elder Price just blurts, "What about you?"

Connor furrows his brow, "What about me?"

"Are you leaving?" Elder Price finally holds his gaze then, and his eyes of hesitance and nervousness and hope shatter any doubt in Connor's mind.

He hadn't really made up his mind at that point, but suddenly he finds himself saying steadily, "I'll stay."

Elder Price doesn't shout acclamations or hug him or even say anything, but he smiles—honest and real and breathtaking—and Connor believes that that’s enough.

:: - :: 

Connor is a firm believer in rules and order. The Book of Arnold, unsurprisingly like Elder Cunningham himself, completely disregards rules and seems to believe "structure and order" are optional. Which is... _great._ Yep, Connor has no qualms about that _at all_.

Humming an outdated show-tune, Connor begins fixing a zesty fruit salad that the Elders can snack on when they awake before starting their new missionary work. He doesn't like several of the rules that Arnold decided to get rid of, but he has to admit that he does feel a certain thrill at not wearing his temple garments. He feels almost naked despite having his daily outfit on.

 _Gosh, how does it go again,_ he thinks idly to himself as he dices some papayas, wishing he could complete the quote that's been bugging him for going on two hours now. 

 _"I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace..."_ He recited quietly, hoping that hearing it aloud might spark recollection.

"Who are you talking about?" Now becoming accustomed to Elder Price's uncanny ability to sneak up on him at inopportune times, Connor only flinches rather than completely jump.

"Nobody. Just something from a book I read." Connor admits vaguely, and it's strange how protective he is over this fixation of his. He shares everything with everybody—the not so great perks of being the eldest of seven siblings—but this one hobby makes him selfish and secretive. He just wants this _one thing_ to himself. Is that too much to ask?

"What are you doing up so early?" Connor asks, smoothly changing the subject, "You're usually the last to the table."

Elder Price shrugs and lets out a yawn, "Woke up around an hour ago and couldn't fall back asleep." He isn't really looking at Connor then, seeming entranced by the delectable pieces of fruit in the bowl. 

He reaches for a piece of mango, but Connor bats his hand away, "You have to wait fifteen more minutes until all the other elders are awake. The rules state that no one is allowed to have any early or unfair advantage in dining situations."

Elder Price arches a superior eyebrow, demanding condescendingly, "Where does it say that in the Book of Arnold?" 

"It's in the Book of Connor." He replies saucily, looking away before he does something stupid like try to bite that petulant pout off the other boy's face.

Elder Price doesn't take the hint and leans forward, forcing Connor to look him in the eye and notice that their faces are only a foot apart. Elder Price's face adopts a crooked grin as he pleads teasingly, "Make an exception for me." And as Connor rolls his eyes and turns his back deliberately for Elder Price to "secretly" steal a few pieces of mango, he can't help but think spitefully to himself, _I always do._

:: - :: 

Ever since he stopped "turning it off," Connor begins to wonder what his "type" would be.

Would he go for someone like Jane Eyre's Mr. Rochester, the typical Byronic hero of tall, dark, and brooding? Or would he fancy more of a Heathcliff type, someone so driven by desire and passion that he would disregard all caution and slam him up against a wall and just _take_? Or could he love someone as beautiful and tragic as Sydney Carton, a self-destructive lover who would go to the ends of the earth to make Connor smile?

For the first time, he actually lets himself play out a life with each of these archetypes, lets himself fall _in_ love and _be_ loved in a way that was once thought to be impossible. It's an incredibly childish and pathetic to spend a sleepless night, and Connor—undecided of which dashing hero would capture his heart in real life—wastes it away. Against his better judgement, Connor tries to fit Elder Price into one of these roles, each becoming more ill-fitting than the last. If he had to pick, he would label Elder Price as more an Estella—beautiful and cruel and utterly unattainable for someone like him.

When Connor finally goes to sleep and dreams of fire and brimstone, it's almost like a relief.

:: - :: 

It takes awhile before _Elder Price_ becomes simply _Kevin_. After long nights of studying and dictating the Book of Arnold, short reprieves of private discussions while he watches Connor prepare breakfast, brief but frequent walks together around the village to get supplies or preach the new- _new_ Gospel, _Elder Price_ —a confident yet arrogant man who believes the world revolves around him—becomes _Kevin_ —a less confident but still pretty arrogant man who is trying to put others before himself and learn a more humble way of living.

 _Kevin,_ who drinks coffee and curses like a sailor and sometimes goes through bouts of depression where he can barely leave his room. _Kevin,_ who—on bad days—stays silent and troubled and scathing to the point that no one can stand to be near him except Arnold. _Kevin,_ who—on most days—laughs quietly at the oddest things and tries to put on puppet shows of his favorite Disney movies for the village children and smiles softly at Connor in the morning lighting of the kitchen.

Connor normally doesn't like change—rules are meant to be everlasting and strictly enforced, after all—but he doesn't necessarily mind this one all too much.

:: - ::

On one of his bad days, Connor finds Kevin curled within himself as he sits on the back porch and looks up at the stars in the night sky. Clearing his throat to get the man's attention, Connor asks, "Can I hide out here with you? Elder Poptarts and Elder Neeley are arguing about who broke the toaster, and I really don't feel like playing mediator right now."

"It's a free country," Kevin bites out, pausing before amending, "More or less, anyway." Carefully, he sits down next to Kevin, putting a safe distance between them so the other won't feel cornered. The quiet night is riddled with the buzzing of wasps and mosquitoes and the distant groans of faraway creatures, so Connor doesn't feel any awkward silence between the two. It's actually quite peaceful, to be honest. He looks up and tries to count the stars that stain the sky, a pleasant distraction to the depressed boy beside him.

"So do you still believe in all of that horseshit?" Kevin asks suddenly, and Connor immediately gathers that Kevin is in one of his _existential_ moods, "The 'golden plates,' the 'All-American prophet,' the 'sinful coffee,' the existence of  _God?"_ He seems to choke on the last word.

Connor's response is immediate and unwavering, "Yes."

He looks over at him just as Kevin pins his gaze to the ground, his tone clipped and almost envious, "Must be comforting."

Connor thinks about the Hell Dreams he still endures, the overwhelming fear of  _believing_  soon outweighing  _happiness_ that looms over his head.

"I wouldn't say that." Connor admits quietly. Kevin chuckles wryly at that and scoots closer to Connor until their thighs touch.

"I'm only nineteen," Kevin exclaims after a pause of silence, "Why do I feel like I’ve wasted my life? It hasn't even _started_ yet."

"You feel directionless. You have no purpose in life now," Just as Kevin gears up to say something along the lines of stop trying to convert him back to the faith, Connor holds up a hand and clarifies, "It doesn't have to be a religion or a higher power. You can dedicate yourself to, you know, _hobbies,_ I guess."

Kevin looks at him skeptically, "Like what?"

Connor shrugs, sending him a supportive smile, "I have no idea. I'm not Kevin Price."

"Well, what hobbies do you have?"

"Dancing," Connor tells him, as if he doesn't already know that, and even admits before he can hold his tongue, "I like reading a lot."

Kevin seems surprised at the last confession, pointing out, "I've never seen you read."

"I couldn't bring any books over here. Against the rules." Connor reminds him, "But back home, I read every day. I felt less...different, I guess? It's hard to describe. It made me feel calmer."

"Sounds nice." Kevin feels compelled to add as a silence over falls Connor's admission.

"Yeah. I miss it," He shrugs, bitterness invading his voice despite himself, "They don't really have any books in Uganda."

"I guess they were too busy dealing with the whole AIDS crisis and overthrowing their totalitarian government to organize a book-mobile." Kevin deadpans, causing Connor to laugh.

"They need to get their priorities straight then." Connor knocks their knees together and Kevin laughs, and this is good. Yeah, this is good.

:: - ::

Tucked away in the farthest corner of his mind and concealed in an innocuous box labeled "DO NOT CRUSH," Connor has compiled the many, many, _many_ reasons that having anything more than a little crush on Kevin Price is a Bad Idea™.

For one, Kevin—bless his soul—is probably the most self-centered and vain man Connor has ever met; he's _trying_ to do right by others and care for people other than himself, but it just doesn't come natural to him. And Connor is a giver; he _relies_ on people _relying_ on him. Even in their tentative friendship (Connor refrains from calling it that aloud in case Kevin hears and wants to correct him), Kevin _takes_ and _takes_ and _takes_ even when Connor has nothing more to give. That sort of dynamic isn't healthy, and Connor has given so much to so many people already. He wants to be the taker every once in awhile.

Secondly, Kevin is a hot mess right now. His questioning of God, his ever-going transformation into a better person, his strained relationship with his once tight-knit family, a dark incident that only Arnold knows and Kevin refuses to talk about—Kevin is a ticking time-bomb at this point. He doesn't need the overbearing stress of a _relationship_ thrown in the mix of that stuff.

And most importantly, Kevin is _straight._ He's going to get married someday, as he's confided to Connor once before when he asked about his plans for the future. He doesn't have gay thoughts, and Connor—Well, he's having _Kevin_ thoughts at the moment, and they are most definitely not-straight and definitely unrequited. He doesn't delude himself in believing that those ever increasing _looks_ that Kevin gives him when he thinks he's not looking _mean_ anything; he doesn't let himself hope that those absentminded touches on his knee or shoulder mean anything other than strictly platonic; he doesn't believe that Kevin Price is in love with him, no matter how desperately he wants to.

He nurtures this attachment begrudgingly, reminding himself that once this is all over, he'll go back home (if they'll have him. They haven't written back at all in the many months) and find a nice boy to live in sin with. And Kevin will become just like Steve Blade, a passing fancy that serves only as a bookmark in Connor's ever-expanding journey of self-acceptance. And that's _fine_ by him. Honestly.

"Do you think I'll find someone?" Connor blurts out one morning as Kevin helps him slice some fruit, and he wants to take it back immediately. It's inappropriate— _on so many levels_ —but once the words ring through the kitchen, there's nothing else he can do.

"What do you mean?" Kevin asks, but then his body suddenly tenses and his chopping halts, "Oh, like romantically?"

"Yeah," Connor ignores the squeakiness in his voice, "I mean, like a nice boy. It's just that I don't...I'm not so sure. I nag a lot and I can get really sassy when I'm in a bad mood and I guess I'm part of a cult now, which is not an easy thing to swallow." He dares a look over at Kevin, who is currently wearing an expression of disbelief and distaste, and he tries vainly to explain, "And I don't know why I even asked, but sometimes I think back to these heroes in those books I’ve read and I'm _nothing_ like them, and I just worry that no one will want to...you know, be with me.

"You know what? Don't even respond. I mean, it's a stupid thing to ask," Connor laughs nervously, busying himself by chopping some bananas, "It sounds like I'm fishing for compliments. I shouldn't have disturbed our peaceful morning with stupid—"

"Stop saying stupid," Kevin demands quietly, causing Connor to freeze and look up at him, "It's not stupid. _You're_ not stupid." And he has a weird expression on his face, but his voice is kind (if a little stilted) so Connor tries to concentrate on that.

"You are such a great guy," Kevin assures him with a smile, but he sounds like he's trying to force the words out of his mouth, "You'll probably find a nice boy who laughs at all your jokes and helps you clean up after dinner and supports your dancing and listens to you talk about even the most boring parts of your day without any complaint and buys you Broadway tickets for your birthday and tells you he loves you _every single day,_ and even _then—_ after all that—he _still_ won't deserve you." It's such a nice thing to say, but Kevin sounds so uncomfortable and almost _mad_ that it just leaves a pit in Connor's stomach.

"Thank you, Elder," Connor says quietly, face burning, "That means—a lot."

Kevin looks down, muttering, "Don't mention it."

And if those papayas that Kevin later chops are more of a congealed mess than anything edible, none of the elders comment on them. 

:: - ::

Even after that mess of a conversation in the kitchen, everything continues like it always did—or at least...sort of.

Technically, Connor and Kevin do as they always did, but the air has suddenly clogged with tension every time they're around each other. Kevin still laughs and carries on a conversation, but every so often, he trails off and just _stares_ at Connor, seemingly lost in thought. And more than once, Connor has walked in on Kevin and Arnold's heated discussion about something that abruptly halts whenever they see him. It's infuriating and disheartening and if this was one of Connor's books, this would be just a huge comedic misunderstanding and the couple would finally talk about their feelings and run off into the sunset.

But this is real life and Kevin Price is not his dashing love interest and Connor doesn't get that happy love story where everything works out and no one is left feeling broken and no love is left unrequited.

When Kevin suddenly begins avoiding him, Connor is resigned to the fact. He's surprised it lasted as long as it did.

:: - ::

It takes Connor until one o'clock in the afternoon to realize that Kevin Price has gone missing. He wasn't there at breakfast that morning (Arnold said he was just sleeping in), he wasn't there at the meeting where they decide where each team of elders will go and preach the Gospel (Arnold said he was in the bathroom), and he wasn't at lunch nor their implemented recreational hour. Connor _knows_ that Kevin is avoiding him, but he wouldn't go to such drastic lengths, would he?

He asks Arnold that very same question when he corners him. And either Connor is looking _very_ intimidating today or Arnold has a guilty conscience because he starts sweating bullets as soon as Connor says  _Kevin_.

"He snuck out early and went on a secret trip," Arnold confesses hurriedly, and well, that was pretty easy, "I told him I would cover him. Oh please don't tell him I told you. It's supposed to be a surprise!"

"It's been hours, Arnold," Connor stresses, "What if he's in trouble? What if he got lost? What if he was eaten by a pack of lions? This is why we always go in pairs and don't hide things from our fellow missionaries. Kevin could be _hurt_."

"Oh my god, he's dead!" Arnold exclaims, throwing his hands in the air, "And I killed him! I killed my best friend!" And no, that's not what Connor said, but the thought of Kevin being lion-food has him shuddering. He spends the next hour comforting a distraught Arnold and sends Elder Church and Elder Poptarts to go looking for Kevin. When it grows dark, they head back to the house with no Kevin. Knowing it isn't safe to travel at night, Connor forces the rest of the elders to get some rest with the promise that they'll devote all tomorrow to searching for him.

As he lies in bed, Connor rationalizes that Kevin has spent the night outside before. He's fine. He's _probably_ fine. He _might be_ fine.

Oh Heavenly Father, he's not fine, is he?

:: - ::

Connor awakes with a hand pressed to his shoulder. He startles and nearly screams at the looming shadow over his cot, but the hand on his mouth prevents him for doing so. 

"Connor, it's me. It's Kevin." Connor's eyes adjust to the dark enough to see Kevin—dirty and disbelieved and exhausted—smiling down at him. Connor goes through many emotions, but he picks the safest one to express.

"Kevin Price!" Connor hisses in a whisper, rising from his bed and pushing him out into the hall as to not to disturb his slumbering mission companion, "You are in big trouble, Young Man. How _dare_ you scare me and the other elders like that! Elder Cunningham is a mess because of your little _'vacation time.'_ And I know I've shown you favorable treatment in the past, but that stops _right now._ You are going to be punished in the _severest measures!_ I swear, you are going to—"

"Fuck, this is not how this is supposed to go," He suddenly pulls out something from his bag and thrusts it in Connor's hands, "Look, I left because I had to get this for you. One of the nearby villages has mailing available, so I asked one of my siblings to buy me this and then I had to travel there and back, which took _forever_..." He continues to blather on and on, but Connor just stares at the rectangular object badly wrapped in leaves and moss.

"Open it," Kevin demands, chewing on his lip anxiously, "It's yours."

Tentatively, he tears away the leaves to reveal a cheap paperback copy of _Great Expectations_. It's obviously used and dirty and many of the pages have been dog-eared, and Connor has never seen anything as beautiful. But then he looks up at Kevin and thinks, _Oh wait. Never mind._

"You like reading," Kevin tries to explain, wringing his hands, "So I thought I could get that for you to read during recreational hour. Is that—Is it okay?"

"I don't want to make this awkward," Connor replies, grinning as he confesses offhandedly, "But I _really_ want to kiss you right now. Kevin, this is—" Kevin rushes forward and collides their mouths together. It's sloppy and the angle isn't quite right and their teeth knock together a couple of times and it is _nothing_ like it's been described in those countless of romance novels, but it's Connor's _first_ kiss and somehow it's even _better._  

When they both pull back due to lack of oxygen, Connor tries to keep his voice down as he squeaks, "But you said you didn't have gay thoughts!"

"Well, at that moment, I didn't." Kevin tells him, still managing to look a bit uppity even after he's been kissed the heck out of, "Obviously, a lot of things have changed since then."

"That was incredible." Connor exclaims, dropping the book to the ground and cupping Kevin's face " _You_ are incredible."

The declaration causes Kevin to immediately preen, "You really think so?" And _of course_ Connor thinks so. He might not have traveled to the ends of the earth or died for him, but he tried to make Connor smile. And well, that's pretty neat.

Forgoing a response, Connor leans forward and kisses him, and he doesn't know why books always call this kind of thing the 'ending' because this thing right here—it’s only just _beginning._

**Author's Note:**

> HEY, I WORKED HARD ON THIS, SO YOU SHOULD LEAVE A COMMENT TELLING ME WHAT YOU THINK OF IT. I appreciate kudos as well.


End file.
